


Still of the Night

by Nokomis



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-18
Updated: 2012-07-18
Packaged: 2017-11-10 05:26:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/462675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nokomis/pseuds/Nokomis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Erica go on a totally fake date. For reasons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the lovely Lielabell for the beta! The title is from White Snake.

Stiles is totally minding his own business, actually doing his freaking schoolwork at a table in the library when Erica saunters up like she’s in a Motley Crue video or something.

She leans her hip up against his table and scowls down at him. “You’re coming with me tonight.”

“Don’t go overboard with the charm, missy,” Stiles says, flipping to the next page in his history book. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Derek thinks there’s a new hunter in town,” Erica continues, unphased by Stiles’ rejection. “You’re coming with me to check him out.”

Stiles most definitely is not. “See, the thing about not being a werewolf, is that I don’t have to worry about things like werewolf hunters. Sorry.”

“But you should worry about things like werewolves,” Erica offers, leaning over and sliding a claw-tipped hand across his chest. 

Stiles pretty much hates everything, up to and including the view down Erica’s top that he’s getting right now, and how that’s more distracting than the claws of death trailing along his chest. “Right. That’s something to consider. But why do you want me along?”

Erica sighs. “Because the rest of the pack has been seen by this guy, and we need someone who’s clearly not supernatural.”

“Super,” Stiles says. “That’s just… super. I’m guessing that you’re threatening me into this and I don’t have a choice?”

“Pretty much,” Erica says, tracing a heart on his chest with her giant werewolf claws. Stiles tries his best to look away, and to not squirm too much.

“Honestly, can’t you just… put those away or something?” Stiles asks after a minute, holding his hands up like a shield to protect himself from her cleavage.

Erica rolls her eyes and leans forward even more, to the point that Stiles is seriously concerned that she’s going to spill out of her top. Erica is a douchebag. “Bothering you?”

“Absolutely not,” Stiles lies, hoping that Erica hasn’t gotten around to getting wolfy lie detector lessons from Derek yet.

Her laugh tells him that yes, yes she has. “Are you coming or not?”

“I don’t see why you can’t just go with, oh, I don’t know, _anyone else in the universe_ ,” Stiles grumbles.

“I don’t see why you’re turning down a fake date with an awesome girl,” Erica says sweetly, “since we both know the real version isn’t happening for you anytime soon.”

“You are mean,” Stiles tells her firmly. “A mean, mean girl. Also this is a fake date?”

“It’ll be fun,” she tells him.

He’s pretty sure that he didn’t agree to it, but she struts away like he has anyway.

*

He doesn’t say anything about Erica’s proposition to Scott. He’s not sure why.

*

At seven that evening, the doorbell rings. Stiles tries to get there first -- that just raises his dad’s suspicions -- which means that Erica is greeted by both Stilinskis at the door, one looming and wearing a gun, the other stumbling into the foyer and grabbing onto the wall.

“Hello there,” his dad says, raising an eyebrow at Erica.

She’s wearing her usual post-transformation swag, meaning leather, and she takes one look at Stiles and shakes her head. “You. Change. Now.”

Stiles is pretty sure his dad is holding back laughter.

“This is Erica,” Stiles explains. “She goes to my school.”

“Does she,” his dad says. He turns to her. “You seem like a nice young lady.”

Erica smiles at him, and says, “Sorry. I just can’t go out with your son when he’s dressed like that.”

“There is nothing wrong with the way I dress,” Stiles says.

He gets not one but two lifted eyebrows in response. 

“Oh my god, like you’re one to talk, Tawny Kitaen,” Stiles says, because _seriously_ , and stomps towards his room. Erica follows him, and he’s pretty sure that he hears his dad tell her that she’s going to have to dress him like a Barbie doll if she wants him to wear something decent.

Stiles is pretty sure that his dad is getting revenge on him for all the times he’s put him in awkward positions.

So Stiles just has to watch while Erica digs through his clothes and apparently finds them all horrifying. Finally she shoves a pair of jeans and a plain t-shirt at him as the ‘least offensive’ and then stands there with her arms crossed and a decidedly uninterested expression on her face while he changes.

“This is above and beyond the call of duty,” Stiles informs her, shoving his feet into a pair of sneakers.

“This is no picnic in the park for me, either,” Erica says. Stiles is pretty sure she’s lying, but unfortunately doesn’t have super-senses to confirm that assessment. “And do not put on that hoodie! Jesus, it’s like you want to look like a bag lady.”

“But I might get cold,” Stiles says. “Maybe I should take a sweater, just in case.”

“We’re leaving,” Erica tells him firmly, and practically drags him down the hall, calling, “It was nice to meet you, Sheriff Stilinski!”

“Don’t get arrested!” his dad calls back, because he’s a comedian. “I’ll hear about it!”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Stiles yells back as he follows Erica out the door.

Then she ushers him to his own car, and he looks around and realizes that there are no strange cars in the driveway. “Did you… walk here?”

“I got a ride,” she says airily.

“You… Please tell me Derek didn’t drop you off at my house,” Stiles sighs.

“He agreed that you’d make a great decoy,” Erica says. “No hunter would give you a second look.”

“He didn’t suggest it, did he?” Stiles asks, hopeful. Derek’s circle of acquaintances is tiny, and then it would make sense that he would single Stiles out. It makes him a lot less nervous than the thought that Erica picked him on her own.

“Not really,” Erica says with forced breeziness. “Though to be fair, ‘human we can trust’ is a pretty short list.”

“You all need to get out more,” Stiles says. “Really.”

*

“Wait,” Stiles says when they arrive. Erica’s leaning forward to reapply her red lipstick, and Stiles stares at the restaurant. “This is a _date_.”

“I told you it was,” Erica says patiently. She purses her lips together then blows herself a kiss with a loud _smack_. “A fake date. The suspect’s meeting with someone here tonight.”

Somehow Stiles had imagined a lot of sneaking around and peeking around corners, not… sitting across from Erica pretending to be on a date with her. “Why can’t you just listen in on him from outside?”

Erica glances at him out of the corner of her eye. “Because it’s more complicated than that.”

“Okay,” Stiles says, raising his hands up. “Just asking, jeez.”

Erica sighs and jerks open the door of his Jeep. Stiles is going to have to check to make sure she didn’t dent anything, only not when she’s there glaring at him. Erica’s super intimidating. If Stiles was ranking Derek’s pack from most frightening to least, Erica would definitely rank in the top two.

Not that Stiles has ever ranked Derek’s pack from most frightening to the least.

So he follows her into the restaurant, trying to look like the kind of guy who goes on dates. And failing. Miserably. Even though he’s there with someone on what appears to be a date.

The hostess keeps looking back and forth between them and raises an eyebrow at Erica, who looks back at her, nonplussed, and grabs Stiles’ hand like she’s got something to prove. She keeps her grip on him all the way to the table, where she pushes him towards one side of the table and carefully sits on the other, staring at someone several tables off.

“Is that him?” Stiles asks. He looks just like a normal dude, talking to two other normal dudes at a table.

“Don’t stare,” hisses Erica. “We’re being inconspicuous.” 

“Oh, is that what this is?” Stiles replies. 

Erica gives him a look that he interprets to mean, _shut the fuck up before I disembowel you._

“Anything you do to silence me will just be more conspicuous,” Stiles points out, grabbing a breadstick and chowing down.

“Just don’t stare at them,” Erica says. “I’m listening in, okay? So just…” she waves a hand at him. “Talk normally.”

“Why do people _do_ that?” Stiles replies. “You know the second you tell me to just talk, I won’t be able to think of anything in the world to say. Especially to you, since, you know, I’m ninety percent sure you’d use anything I said against you.”

“You seem to be doing fine,” she says. She rests her hand on her chin and gives him a decidedly gooey look. “Dazzle me.”

Stiles looks around for something to throw at her and ends up just throwing the end of his breadstick. She laughs and begins to say something, but then freezes, head cocked to the side like a cocker spaniel.

Stiles has spent enough time around werewolves that he doesn’t make fun of her for this, just braces himself for whatever’s to come. 

“They’re…” Erica pauses. “They’re planning to meet up with the Argents.”

“That would imply they’re hunters,” Stiles says. “Good work, Lassie! Now we can go…”

She shakes her head. “We need to find out when… Crap! They’re leaving!”

Erica stands up abruptly and heads towards the door, and Stiles hurries after her. “Why do we care?”

She glances back over her shoulder and says in a hushed undertone, “Because I don’t want to be murdered horribly? Why the hell do you think?”

Stiles sighs and says as quietly as possible, “They might not murder you!”

Erica ducks around the side of the restaurant, and Stiles quickly follows. The hunters are gathered around some benches smoking and talking in what are obviously hushed tones, looking around suspiciously.

“What are they talking about?” Stiles whispers.

“A hunt,” she replies. She leans up against the wall and furrows her brow. “I’m not sure…”

“Not sure about what?” Stiles asks. Erica appears to be listening hard. “Are they—“

Erica’s mouth cuts him off. She’s got him by the front of the shirt, pulling him to her, and is kissing him.

“Mmph?” Stiles manages.

She pulls back enough to hiss, “They’re watching us. Just go with it. And don’t look at them, for fuck’s sake.”

Stiles takes a step closer so that he’s standing between Erica and the hunters, and is pretty sure that he’s hiding her from view. She lets go of his shirt and loosely wraps her arms around his neck, and he leans in like he’s about to kiss her neck and says, “Do they know what you are?”

She laughs, a low, husky sound that the hunters can probably hear, and then leans in close to whisper, ”I think they’d be shooting if they did.”

“Good point,” Stiles replies. Erica cuts her eyes back to where the hunters are, and then quickly draws him in for another kiss. 

Stiles figures it’s okay to kiss her back, since it’s their cover and all. There’s also the fact that he’s just human and it’s kind of impossible to not want to kiss someone like Erica back, especially when she’s hungrily pressing her mouth against his.

And once he begins, he’s not sure that he ever wants to stop. He leans in against Erica, and she lets out an approving noise between kisses, running her hand up the back of his neck to ruffle his hair. She bites his lower lip as she pulls back from the kiss, and Stiles rests one hand at her waist, the other sliding down to rest on her hip, perilously close to curving around to her ass. 

She doesn’t seem to mind, just slides one leg around Stiles’ and pushes herself even closer, kissing him deep. It feels amazing, and when the kiss breaks, Stiles leans his forehead against Erica’s and just stands there, eyes closed and feeling her tangled around him.

Then Erica says, “Oh, shit!”

Stiles opens his eyes and stumbles a little as Erica pushes him away. He’s insulted for a minute, then realizes that the hunters are gone.

“Did you hear where they were going?” he asks, and she shakes her head.

“No, I got… distracted,” she admits, and Stiles is kind of proud of himself. He’s never distracted someone from a life and death situation before.

“At least they didn’t realize you were a werewolf,” Stiles says to reassure her.

“There’s that,” Erica says, “but losing the hunters was bad. All I got was that the hunt is soon.”

“Hey, that’s more than we knew before,” Stiles says. He doesn’t know why he keeps trying to convince Erica everything is hunky-dory. Maybe it’s because he’s still reeling a bit from how he just _made out with Erica against a wall_.

“Let’s go,” she says, and strolls past him towards the car. They climb in and Stiles listens as Erica calls Derek and tells him what they found out, though she conveniently leaves out why the hunters got away before she found out when the hunt was or who they were hunting.

Then Derek seems to say something that she doesn’t like, and she gives the phone a death glare. She jabs at the screen to end the call, looking like she wishes that she could slam it down or something, and leans back in the seat, looking up at the ceiling.

“Um,” Stiles says. “About…”

“That was just a cover,” Erica tells him.

“It didn’t feel—“

“Just a cover,” Erica repeats. “Don’t get all mushy on me.”

“Hey, _you_ invited me out!” Stiles protests. “And you stuck _your_ tongue down my throat, missy.”

“And you’re the one over there trying to talk about feelings or whatever,” Erica says. “Of which there are none.”

“None?” Stiles asks, trying not to feel disappointed.

“None,” Erica affirms. Then she adds, “Loser.”

“Takes one to know one,” Stiles says reflexively. He offers his fist for Erica to bump. “And hey. I think I owe you a fake-dinner? Since our fake-date got interrupted and all.”

A tiny smile spread across Erica’s face. “Like I’d want to be seen with you.”

“Don’t worry, I was thinking drive-thru,” Stiles says. He’s not really sure why he’s pushing it, just… He likes Erica. Even when she’s mean. It’s an odd character trait to find appealing, but apparently it’s something that Stiles is super into. “No witnesses.”

Erica nods, ducking her head and looking for a second the way she had before her werewolf transformation, shy and nervous. But then she seems to get a hold of herself and grins at him in a way that’s more like a predator baring its teeth than anything else. “Fair enough.”

Stiles drops her off after a quiet ride, and as she climbs out, he asks, “Did I help? I mean. The info on the hunters helps, right?”

She looks around, then leans in and says in a confidential tone, “I think Derek already knew what he needed to know about them.”

“Then why did he send you?” Stiles asks. He thinks again about Erica’s expression when she called Derek and… surely not.

“I had a good time,” she replies, which… doesn’t really answer the question. She smiles again, bright and sunny, and says, “Is Friday good for you?”

“Yes,” Stiles says before he even really thinks too hard about how he just agreed to a date with Erica. A date that, now that he’s replaying the conversation in his head, that he asked her out on unbidden. She turns and saunters towards her door, and Stiles yells after her, “Did Derek set us up? Please tell me Derek didn’t set us up.”

She turns around and, still walking backwards, and calls back, “All he said on the phone was that he hoped we had fun.”

“What does that mean in Derek-speak?” Stiles asks.

Erica pauses. She’s still close enough that they can still speak. “Do you remember what I said the other day?”

“The whole thing where you lied about liking me to get info?” Stiles asks, because that’s something he’s shoved down to the bottom of his thoughts and isn’t really interested in examining, especially right now.

“Not so much a lie,” Erica says, which. What? Stiles stares at her as she continues, “And Derek knows that. So. I was thinking about retaliating against him somehow on Friday. You in?”

Stiles hesitates, but then… yeah. That sounds awesome. “Yes. Definitely.”


End file.
